


Vigilem

by the_nerdy_brunette



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little bit of Magic!Stiles, A lot of sarcastic Stiles, Angst, BAMF!Stiles, Death, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Lots of supernatural creatures, M/M, Pack Feels, Possibility of a sequel!, Resurrection, Resurrections, Runes, Scallison, Shapeshifting, Slash, Smut, Torture, berica, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-26 03:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nerdy_brunette/pseuds/the_nerdy_brunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Years. It had been five years since that devastating night in the rain when he realized how much of a weak human he was, how he shouldn't be so tangled up in the supernatural because it was only going to kill him. So he left and planned on never returning. That doesn't exactly go according to plan, so now Stiles in back in Beacon Hills. Is he still the same Stiles from before, though?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quinque Annis

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! So this is my first fic that I'm posting to AO3, so I hope you guys like it!

Five Years. It had been five years since that devastating night in the rain when he realized how much of a weak human he was, how he shouldn't be so tangled up in the supernatural because it was only going to kill him.

It had been four years and seven months since he moved to New Orleans to attend college with no major just to get away from Beacon Hills and away from everything that he had grown accustomed to - all the werewolves, kanimas, witches, hunters, incubi, and pixies. Pixies. Back then, he thought about how ridiculous it was that pixies existed but vampires didn't. They scoffed at him when he said it was a supernatural impossibility.

It had been four years and two months when he stopped answering phone calls from anyone from Beacon except for his father. Four years and one month when he stopped trying to even keep the conversation going in texts because let's face it. He just didn't want to be involved anymore, to be the one person that managed to guilt trip into coming back to research something they couldn't find an answer to.

It had been three years and eleven months since he began working at the college bar and grill. He was a waiter, and all of the regulars loved him, even asking for him specifically. He realized that he actually did like both guys and girls, even though he knew that way before three years and eleven months ago.

It had been three years and five months since the college sophomore had decided to take a new way home, hoping that it would be shorter because he needed to get back to his apartment before old Miss Flowers could stop him outside his door on her way out to walk Mr. Mittens her cat for the last time for the night and talk about things like how the guys or girls he kept bringing home weren't good for him or how he should keep his hair long because it was nice.

It had been three years, four months, and three weeks when he used the shortcut for the fifth time. He had his first encounter with a vampire that night, but he also met someone that night. He met Ariel.

_Ariel._

Ariel was five foot six inches full of blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin, leather jackets and black boots, knives, and tattoos. Well, they weren't actually tattoos, but the college sophomore didn't know that. All swirling designs and sharp edges. That's what first crossed his mind when he caught sight of one of the markings on her ankle as she kicked the vampire who just took a bite out of his neck in the face. The second thought was 'Who the hell is this chick?' as she matched the vampire hit for hit, eventually punching him straight in the chest where its unbeating heart was. He was surprised when the vampire began to gasp for air before turning gray, and then into a pile of ash. A small pointed piece of wood laid on top of the ash, and Ariel was removing what looked like a simple wrist brace from her wrist and throwing it onto the ground. He caught sight of another marking on the inside of her wrist, more crawling over the palm of her hand, and a thin one twisting into designs on her fingers. She had walked up to him and grabbed his chin in order to tilt his head to the side and get a good look at his neck.He couldn't do anything except make a disgruntled noise, which she in turn tightened her grip and righted his head so she could stare hard into his eyes. Being the hyperactive person he was, he blinked rapidly at her and began to tap an impatient beat onto the side of his leg.

"Stop that," she had said sharply as she dropped his chin and placed both hands on her waist. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets so his hands would stop moving. Instead, he began to rock back and forth on his heels. Ariel's dark eyebrows - he tried to recall the genetic mutation that caused naturally blonde hair and dark eyebrows, but it wouldn't come to his mind - furrowed in confusion. "You were just attacked by a vampire."

"I know," his calm voice came out, smiling in that awkward manner that he always did.

"You aren't freaking out."

"I've been attacked a lot by supernatural creatures."

"Like what?"

"Werewolves, witches, pixies, incubi, and now I can add vampire to my ever growing list." Ariel didn't have anything to say to that, her mouth moving like a fish out of water. He shrugged half-heartedly, thinking about how he probably wouldn't have to worry about Miss Flowers because she would be in bed by the time he was done here. And then there had been a knife at his throat which did in fact cause him to have a spastic moment and flail his body around, making a stinging thin line to cut into this skin.

"What are you d-"

"Who are you?" Those bright blue eyes had darkened a bit, narrowing ever so slightly. When he replied with the comment about being an innocent bystander who was just walking home when he was attacked by some pale, dead psycho and now was going to have his throat sliced by the girl who just saved him from said pale, dead psycho, Ariel pulled away and slid the knife back into the holster on her other wrist that was concealed by her leather jacket. "You're in shock."

No, he really wasn't. But she grabbed his wrist and began to pull him along with strength that he was really surprised she even had. He kept trying to convince Ariel that he really was okay, but she just kept on pulling until they reached a sleek, black... At first glance, he thought it had been a Camaro, and there was no way in hell he would ever get back into one of those. But after another look, he realized it was just a harmless Mustang.

It had been three years, four months, and three weeks. Since Ariel took him to the Supernatural Studies professor, which now that he thought about it, shouldn't have been that surprising that he was involved with the real supernatural. His name was Tristan Stafford, he was originally from England, and he wasn't covered in markings like Ariel was. Markings that covered a lot of her skin, he realized when she pulled off her jacket to leave her in a fitting red tank top that showed off her back and shoulders. He asked why Tristan wasn't covered in the markings as well, to which Tristan began to explain what they were. He cut Tristan off though, because he knew what they were. "They're runes." Both Tristan and Ariel looked shocked that he knew what they were, more so that he could point out certain ones and tell what they symbolized.

It had been three years and three months since he finally talked Tristan into teaching him after telling Tristan that he didn't want to be weak anymore. He didn't give in at first, but his back story about his high school career of fighting the supernatural as a weak human tipped him over. He had left out the part about that day in the rain five years ago, though.

It had been two years, eleven months, and two weeks since he realized how much muscle he had actually put on. Ariel teased him that he wasn't the lanky kid that she saved on the street. He didn't know why she called him kid when they were the same age.

It had been two years and six months since he was finally allowed to get his first rune drawn on him. He had been practicing them on other things like protection for his apartment and truth on Ariel's new knives (which landed straight and true like she had drawn them on there herself). When he asked why Ariel had them permanently all over her body, she replied that Tristan was actually her uncle and that he moved here when her parents died in a raid on a dark Fae coven who were stirring up trouble. She had been learning since she was twelve. That meant she was allowed to have hers drawn on earlier in her life.

It had been two years and three months since he killed his first supernatural that was breaking the Vigilem (that's what people who did what Ariel did are called) code without Ariel there to back him up. It had been one year and eight months since Ariel was killed. He got his runes tattooed on by Tristan in her honor. Tristan said the ink was laced with the concoction, named pulvis vitae, they used for any other kind of rune. His whole body was red and raw for a week because he got them all done at once.

It had been one year since Tristan told him that he needed a break. He didn't listen to Tristan, but instead trained harder, because it was the supernatural that always seemed to rip him to shreds physically, emotionally, and mentally. The training helped.

It had been seven months since he graduated from college. His dad showed up to watch him get his diploma even though they barely talked anymore. He didn't bother to hide the tattoos that covered his skin. His dad didn't seem that bothered by it, but was shocked at the lean muscle he had stockpiled onto himself. His dad asked if there was anybody special in the picture. He immediately thought about Ariel even though there was never anything romantic about their relationship. He told his father 'not anymore'.

It had been four months since he was drunk dialed from a number he didn't know. He listened silently as the voice he would recognize even after nearly five years on the other end talked and talked and talked. When they asked him to come back, he sat there in complete silence with his fists clenched so tightly that his dull nails were drawing blood. Eventually he hung up without answering.

It had been a month since his dad told him that he had to come home now that he graduated from college. His dad said that he no longer had college as an excuse as to why he was staying away and that everyone missed him. He told his dad he didn't care what they thought.

It had been four days since he finally gave into his father's begging and packed what little personal belongings he had, including his weapons, books, journals that held everything he had encountered, and chest of ingredients. Tristan gave him Ariel's Mustang. Tristan told him to be safe and to not hesitate to call him if the need arose. He packed his things and began the drive back to California.

It had been a day since he moved temporarily back into his old room.

It had been thirty minutes since he decided that he needed a large amount of coffee.

It had been two minutes since he pulled into the coffee shop's parking lot.

It had been thirty seconds since he got out of the Mustang and began to walk towards the entrance.

It had been seven seconds since he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the person in front of him.

_"Stiles?"_

It had been five years since he had seen Derek Hale face to face.


	2. Pulvis Vitae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter twooo! ^_^

_When Stiles first began to learn all about the runes and the different kinds, it didn't take him long to master them. He could tell you what it looked liked, how it had to be drawn to work correctly, how many different kinds of runes there was, who discovered each rune, what their purposes were, plus so much more. Tristan and Ariel had been shocked that the novice had learned in a month what Ariel had learned in three years. There was no excuse except for that he loved information and retained it easily. _

_"Strength, agility, healing, clear vision, clear thoughts, lu-" Stiles paused to look at Ariel with a raised eyebrow. She had drawn runes with a sharpie onto flash cards and was testing him on how well he knew them. This certain rune had caused him to blink in confusion, though. "There's a rune for lust? I didn't learn about that one. Wait, how do I know that's lust if I've never studied it?"_

_Ariel's eyes had widened in a deer caught in the headlights manner before she moved to the next flashcard, ignoring his question completely. "Keep going."_

_He stared at her hard, not wanting to be ignored, but by now he had learned better than to argue with the blonde. "Truth, flexibility, stealth, stamina...."_

* * *

 

"Stiles?"

This was not what he wanted when he left the house. All he wanted was a large espresso so that he would have the energy to study a certain breed of house brownies, a breed that he was sure had already stolen socks from his bags. Running into Derek - or any of the pack, for that manner - had not been part of the paln. Especially seeing any of them in his current outfit.

His amber eyes, which had become even more glowing ever since the runes had been a permanent fixture on his skin, looked down to the white t-shirt that was too tight across his chest, showing off every muscle that he had worked hard for. It also wasn't hard to see the large, black designs that covered the majority of his skin. The ones on his arms, hands, and fingers were plainly visible. There was even a small one on the back of his neck. He had chosen a pair of black jeans that Ariel had gotten him for his birthday junior year to wear with a pair of kicks. 

Then ever so slowly, Stiles looked back at Derek. The Alpha's eyes were full of surprise, his grip tight on the cup in his hands. They both stared back at each other for a moment, unable to completely process what was happening. But Stiles broke his gaze when he turned around and began to walk back to Ariel's - _his_ \- Mustang. It felt like there was a lump in his throat. No rune could ever help him with this feeling. The feeling like someone had taken ice cream scoops out of his stomach.

Just as he opened the driver's door, a tanned hand pushed it back closed and forced Stiles' back against it as they crowded him. Derek had his arms on either side of the younger man, trapping him between his body and the car. 

"You don't get to run away. Not this time. Not looking like that, smelling like this without explaining." As Derek said smell, he leaned forward slightly with closed eyes and sniffed at the pale skin of Stiles' neck. "You smell like fire and... _Blood_." The Alpha pulled back a little, his face clouded with confusion over the conclusion he just made.

The first two sentences are what made Stiles' anger rise, even if level headedness was one of the more prominent runes on his chest. There was no way to calm the anger he had contained over the past five years, not even his hard and non stop working out and training and killing evil supernaturals. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but Derek was still nose to nose with him. He was still pressed against him and it brought back too many memories, memories he didn't want there. Some from that night, some from before then. 

_"You're human, Stiles! Just a liability to the pack."_

_"Gee, Derek. Let's not sugar coat our feelings shall we?"_

_"A liability."  
_

_"Yeah! I got it the first time you said it. Okay?"_

The memory of that night a few days before the night in the rain caused his anger to spike. Stiles remembered every single thing that Derek had said to him, even phone calls and texts and threats and whispers in the dark and harsh words and heavily breathed phrases and growls. Everything. The anger still wasn't subsiding, and before he knew what he was doing, he pulled a jagged blade out of the waistband of his jeans and buried it to the hilt in the werewolf's side.

As soon as it happened, a sigh of what seemed to be contentment escaped his lips while a grunt of pain came from Derek's. It was almost like he had finally given the wolf a taste of the pain he had felt over the many years, and it felt so goddamned good, even as Derek doubled over in pain and continued to let out choked noises. Red eyes looked up to meet his, anger and pain written clearly over his face. Then his face quickly shifted to what looked like confusion and fear.

"I'm not some weak little human anymore, Derek. Try to remember that the next time you threaten me. I'll have to remember to stash my special knives next time.," Stiles hissed out angrily into Derek's ear as he bent over with the wolf. He twisted the knife ever so slightly before pulling it back out harshly and wiping the blood off on his jeans. The look on Derek's face was the one he always got when someone hurt him: the look of a kicked puppy. Stiles laughed darkly, the smirk staying firmly on his face. Then he swiped his legs out to knock the werewolf's out from under him. Derek landed on the asphalt, hurt covering his face in an almost painful manner. Stiles opened the driver's door once more and climbed behind the wheel. When the car was started, the werewolf healing had already closed the small wound the once awkward teenager but now graceful young man had made. Stiles glanced one more time out the window before peeling out of the parking lot.

Derek's still glowing eyes watched the Mustang until it turned the corner and was out of sight, then looked to where he had dropped his coffee. Damn. Now he'd have to buy another for Lydia, or she might just rip his throat out. Except there was no need to bribe her to help him now. Derek had already found what he was looking for. 

* * *

 

Stiles never would have thought that seeing Derek again after what now seemed like five devastatingly long years he would feel like this. When he locked eyes with the older man, Stiles had gone back to that night all over again. He had instantly been flooded with all the pain and hurt all over again before everything else. It was too much for him to take, but stabbing Derek had given him relief. In reality, Stiles had thought about what would happen when he saw the werewolf, even going as far as to stash a wolfsbane laced dagger in an ankle holster. Maybe using that blade instead of just threatening to use it would have left him feeling more settled.

The anger was still coursing through his veins, pushing him to attack the punching bag in front of him with more force. The twenty-four year old was now shirtless, barefoot, and in baggy sweatpants that rode too low. The runes were completely visible, some even disappearing beneath the hem of his sweats and some continuing out the legs and onto his feet. In addition to his runes, there were words written on his ribs on the right side.

_Vigilem_

_'Vigilate omnes, defendere innocentium, malum occidere.'_

 

That had been one of the first things Tristan had taught him when he started training, before he even started to work out. The Vigilem motto. The professor had said that it had to be taken completely seriously, or bad things would happen. When Stiles asked what he meant by 'bad things', Ariel hadn't hesitated before bluntly saying that they wouldn't hesitate in putting him down like the rest of the supernaturally evil. 

Thinking of Ariel caused another tang of pain to course through him, and he steadily increased the force of his punches until he was practically screaming through his teeth with each impact. By now, his knuckles had split open and blood was beginning to smear on the bag. His breathing had picked up, and then seemingly out of nowhere he bent down and quickly grabbed one of the daggers that were sticking in the ground. He whirled around and threw it with so much force that it lodge into a tree up to the hilt. . .

Right next to Lydia Martin's head. 

Stiles' eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise, but the redhead hadn't even flinched. Instead, a smirk slowly began to form on her glossed lips and a crimson brow raised ever so lightly. His chest was still rising and falling quickly, but he could feel the itch on his knuckles that indicated the multiple healing runes were starting to do their job. The usual glow of his amber eyes brightened considerably at the use of the runes' powers, but Lydia didn't say anything. 

"I heard you were back in town." She was the first one to break the silence, then her eyes flickered to his chest. "Watcher. Watch everyone, defend the innocent, slay the evil." Stiles blinked in confusion, giving her an expression that made it very clear that he had no idea what she was talking about. Lydia sighed in exasperation before raising a hand and pointing to the cursive Latin script tattooed on him. 

His eyes flickering down to look at it, he nervously licked his lips when he realized he was shirtless.. In front of Lydia Martin. The love of a large part of his life. Sure, he was over her now, but still the thought of it had him twitching nervously, overpowering the runes that were supposed to calm down his ADD. Stiles still took Adderall when it was absolutely needed (like when he had been studying for finals or planning missions) but not as often as before becoming Vigilem.

"Oh, um.." His mouth opened like a fish for a few moments before he reached up and tugged a hand roughly through his hair. His eyes blinked rapidly and looked everywhere but directly at the red head who had moved to cross her arms. "Yeah. It's a... A real nice saying, yeah? I-I think it was in a book.. That I.. Read." He popped his lips and sighed before casually crossing his arms with slightly wide eyes. 

Lydia scoffed before moving towards Stiles, the determination that made him fall in love with her all those years ago still evident in her walk. She came to a stop a few inches in front of him, having to look up even in the wedges that graced her feet. Stiles had grown more since high school, which wasn't something the young woman had been expecting. It didn't falter her for a minute nor the fire burning in her eyes.

"I don't have to be a werewolf to hear that obvious lie coming from your lips, Genim." Stiles went to make a noise of protest against her using his first name, but she held up a hand. He knew better than to argue with Lydia Martin. He would rather take on six shapeshifters by himself than go against her wishes. "I also know that you would never take the bite. Not after. . ." Her eyes left his and looked straight at the puckered, pale scars on his chest.

_The scars._

The scars he tried so hard to forget about, even getting the runes tattooed specifically over them so maybe they would be hidden. They weren't. The dark ink actually just made them stand on more. Two sets of four scars that ran from his collarbones down to his hips. 

"We're not talking about this right now," Stiles said quickly as he turned around and walked back to the punching bag, which he was just beginning to think about how his dad might not like how he had set up a training ground in the woods behind their house. "We're not talking about this ever." He began to collect all of his things, the knives and swords and even a bow. Allison would possibly be proud to know he learned to shoot one, but there were runes painted on both the bow and arrows to help him hit his target. He began to make the trek back to his house, knowing that Lydia would follow him whether he wanted her to or not. 

Flashes of that night began to cross his mind, and his breathing slowly picked up. He could vaguely hear Lydia saying something as they kept walking, but it was drowned out by the sound of screaming and fighting. 

**_Flash._ **

It was night time and he was in the clearing behind the Hale house. It was raining too hard for them to be out here. 

**_Flash._ **

He was suddenly screaming someone's name, running through the fighting trying to get to a figure as it collapsed to the ground.

 ** _Flash_**.

Pain was felt through his whole body.

**_Flash._ **

_"Such a weak little human, aren't you, Little Red? Weak, frail, broken. We could fix that, Little Red. Save you from all of this pain. Just one. . Little. ."_

**_Flash. Flash. Flash._ **

"Stiles!"

That voice wasn't the one he had just been hearing. It wasn't raining. The sun was out. There was no noise except for the occasional sound of a bird chirping and Lydia's voice as she continued saying words to him, trying to get him to calm down. He realized he had collapsed onto the ground. He couldn't breathe. It hurt so bad. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't...

Slowly, he reached for one of the daggers he dropped, the hollow pain spreading to the rest of his body. With shaky hands, he picked up the blade and sat up. The part of his forearm that was clear of any runes was facing up, and Stiles began to drag the sharp point of the blade along his skin in a curling design, blood instantly rising to the surface. He needed to do this quickly, or the pain would just keep spreading.

"Stiles! What the hell are you doing?!" The redhead kneeling next to him screeched. Stiles grit his teeth and ignored her as his still shaking hands attempted to unscrew the bottom of the knife. When he finally got it undone, a black powder was visible inside the hollow handle. He poured some of it on the wound, then screamed out as white hot pain shot through his whole body. "Oh my God! What- Stiles!"

Then the pain was gone. He could breathe again. The panic attack was gone, and the wound on his arm had slowly begun to heal. 

He laid back harshly, making sure the powder didn't spill because there was no way to get any more unless Tristan mailed him some from New Orleans. His eyes closed as he took deep breaths, just wanting to lay there because he was so exhausted. Of course that didn't last long though, not with Lydia witnessing what just happened.

"I'm calling Derek," she said as she pulled her slim phone out of her pocket. What?! Why the hell would she call him? Her finger had already pressed and held the number five, speed dialing his number. Stiles shot up and knocked the phone out of her hand quickly. She let out a loud noise of protest. But when her eyes met his, her words died on her lips. 

"None of this involves him, Lydia! None of it. I was having a panic attack, and I fixed it! The cuts are already healed anyways. See!" He held up his arm to show her where he carved the rune into his pale skin was now scabbed over, but even that was slowly disappearing. Her eyes didn't leave his though, which made his eyebrows furrow in confusion. "What are you staring at Lydia?"

Her head had tilted slightly, her eyes narrowed a bit. She blinked a few times before answering. "Your eyes... They.. They were black. Not just the iris and pupil either, your whole eye, but now it's gone and your eyes are glowing gold. Not like the Betas eyes. Actual liquid gold." She leaned forward in curiosity, her finger tracing lightly under his eyes. Her touch caused a shiver to go down his spine, an after effect of the powder inside the dagger - the pulvis vitae. That's why he didn't use it that much. Being horny while trying to fight supernaturals wasn't always a good thing. When he was getting his tattoos done, Tristan thought it was hilarious that Stiles was practically humping the chair while the professor worked on his back. It wasn't funny. He didn't find relief until two days later after having sex with almost every girl and guy he came into contact with, stopping only to eat and sleep enough to keep him going.

Stiles stared hard at the girl in front of him, his eyes trailing down her body. He imagined all the things he could do to her. The way he could have her under his body in just a few seconds, their clothes ripped from their bodies. She would beg for more. His name would be screamed so loudly that the neighbors might even call it in. His mind imagined the way her pale skin would look slightly coated with sweat, her eyes half lidded from ecstasy and exhaustion. She wouldn't be able to walk for- 

"Stiles Stilinski, I swear to all things holy, if you do not stop looking at my boobs like we're sophomores again, I'm going to stab you in the stomach with this New Orleans voodoo dagger and leave you here for your father to find. I might even call Derek and have him find you since you're so against seeing him."

Stiles' eyes snapped back to hers, and he scowled lightly at Lydia. "One of the side effects of the pulvis vitae - the black powder in the dagger - is the need to have sex. My apologies, Miss Martin, but you're the best candidate at the moment," he replied sarcastically, his breathing a bit uneven from his obvious arousal. The redhead just rolled her eyes and stood back up, dusting the dirt off of herself as she did so. Stiles stood back up with more grace than he had ever had before leaving for New Orleans, surprising Lydia. She wanted to know what he was and what that powder was. What his tattoos meant, especially the one in Latin. 

After collecting everything back up from the ground, Stiles led them in the back door of the house. He set down the knives and bow on the table as you walked inside. But then there were noises coming from inside the house, and he instinctively grabbed his bow. He grabbed the holster of arrows and slung it over his shoulder before loading one and getting it ready to shoot as he walked through the house cautiously. Lydia looked confused because she didn't have runes or supernatural abilities to help her hear.

"Sti-" She began, following after him with a question on her face, but he cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand and something that resembled him telling her to stay where she was. Of course she didn't though, her shoes fortunately making no noise on the wooden floors.

He rounded the corner, looking around for what might have made the noise. There was nothing in the kitchen at first glance, but he walked in just to make sure. Just as he was going to look upstairs, something dashed into his line of vision. Stiles quickly turned his bow on the moving object, but came face to face with a little girl who looked creepily familiar. Then the front door opened, and then suddenly there was someone in front of him with yellow glowing eyes, pointed ears, fangs, claws, and horrible sideburns. They were also growling at him protectively, making sure the little girl was in no harm's way.

And then both Stiles and the werewolf seemed to realize who they were threatening.

Because the werewolf was Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the people who reviewed the last chapter asked if I had a picture of Stiles' tattoos, but I don't! I thought that maybe there would be a pic on Tumblr that would show something close to what I imagined, but... Sadly there wasn't. So I'm attempting to draw a picture! I'm working on the ones on his chest and stomach at the moment, but maybe I'll have all of it done by the time I get the next chapter out! 
> 
> Don't forget to review, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, gave kudos, or followed last chapter!


	3. Qui Crevit Sursum.  Ipse Pugnavit Retro.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles finds out a few things that happened while he was gone, and he gets invited to a birthday party. He also takes a shower and then decides that locking his window is the way to go.

A spray of scalding hot wter shot out of the shower head and burned Stiles' skin on contact. The healing runes didn't allow for the burns to stay or cause him pain for long, but the tanned skin was raw from continuously healing itself. He knew that he shouldn't keep leaning against the wall and continue to ignore the fact that soon enough his body was going to be exhausted from the runes drawing energy from him. However, his mind was too clouded with the events that had occurred just over a few hours ago.

* * *

 

Stiles had just aimed the arrow at the little girl with the big, brown eyes when the door flew open and a large frame was blocking his view from her. The figure was a werewolf, but not just any random werewolf. It was Scott, who was growling rather loudly at Stiles while crouching protectively in front of the little girl. She, however, didn't see any danger and was peaking around Scott's leg to get a better look at the man with the bow and black swirly designs all over him

Both Stiles and Scott realized who they were threatening at the same time, and both their mouths opened in shock. Scott stood up straight again, his eyes wide. Stiles gently let the bow lower and his muscles relax. Lydia made an annoyed noise in the back of her throat and stormed over to Stiles, snatching the weapon from his hands.

"I can't believe you just aimed this at her! You act like you've never seen a child before, Stiles. Where were you for the past five years? A cannibalistic island that hunted children and ate them for food?" She dropped the bow on the kitchen counter before turning back around and ripping the quiver of arrows off his shoulder as well. After depositing it beside the weapon, the redhead glared at him once more.

The little girl had completely walked around Scott and now stood between the two men, glancing back and forth from Scott's face to Stiles'. Finally, she turned to face Stiles and looked up at him, tilting her head back far. After tugging lightly on his sweats, she asked, "Are you Unca Siles?" Her words weren't fully formed, and she had trouble saying parts of words.

Stiles looked down at her, confusion written all over his face. His eyes were shining slightly, like they were beginning to water up with tears. He just stared down at the little girl, who patiently stared back at him and waited for an answer. The Vigilem could feel the eyes of Lydia and Scott on him, but he ignored them.

"Stiles?"

Everyone in the room turned their heads to who spoke. A mass of long brown curls framed a fair skinned face that was clouded with confusion. A slight smile was on her lips, and she walked quickly into the kitchen. It was Allison, and she looked estatic to see Stiles.

"Momma!" The little girl giggled, then literally jumped into her mother's arms. Allison didn't even bend down as the girl jumped the distance straight up that was needed to wrap her arms around Allison's neck. "Iss Unca Siles, isn' it?" Her brown eyes widened even more, waiting for an answer finally.

Stiles swallowed hard, his gaze on the ground. "Mom?" He managed to choke out. The already thick tension in the room seemed to thicken even more, and Lydia popped her lips lightly.

"How about I take Gen into the living room?" She asked, walking forward to pull the grinning - a very wolfish like grin, in fact - girl into her arms. Then they were in the living room, and the television was being turned on, and the volume lowered considerably to a quiet hum.

Scott stared hard at Stiles, who looked up to stare back at him without flinching. He noticed a few things by quickly flickering his eyes between the couple. Allison had a diamond ring and a wedding band on her ring finger, Scott did as well, and there was a bite mark that was peaking out of the collar of Allison's shirt. The fact that it hadn't healed meant that it wasn't The Bite, but rather the mate mark. Scott probably had one as well hidden somewhere. Stiles tried not to think of The Mark. "So you have a daughter, a legitimate daughter at that. Surprised you didn't knock her up out of wedlock, Scott. Anyways, Allison obviously has accepted The Mark. You're two year old daughter is named Jennifer. Oh, great! We're all caught up! You can leave now." Stiles didn't try to hold back the sarcasm, allowing it to pool out in full force.

"Her name's not Jennifer," Scott said gruffly, his face not changing from the angry scowl it was in. Stiles absent-mindedly thought that Scott was hanging out with Derek too much if he was able to perfect a scowl that well, but then he scolded himself for thinking of Derek. He had barely settled down at home and somehow that damned Alpha had found a way to squirm into his thoughts.

"Lydia just called her Gen. I obviously heard that, Scott. What? Won't even tell me what her name is because I was gone for five years. That obviously means I'm a serial killer or a rapist. Maybe I'm a devil worshipper and want to use her for a sac-"

"Gen is short for Genim." Allison had finally spoken up, moving to lean against the counter closest to the two men. Scott relaxed slightly when she moved closer, and when she noticed this, the young woman moved to wrap her arms around his side. Her fingers lightly danced on his side, almost in a petting motion. Stiles tried to focus on anything besides his old friends in front of him. He needed to calm down or he might punch the wall, and it was plausible that the Sheriff wouldn't be too happy about the broken drywall. His amber eyes flickered to where the living room was, where Genim listening to the Discovery channel and Lydia telling her all the things the show got wrong. Genim just laughed, one that reminded Stiles of Allison, and said something along the lines of "I thought Afa tol' you to stop 'recting the TV in fron'a me?"

Lydia scoffed and there was the sound of weight being shifted. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him, now will it? Unless you plan on telling?" The two girls giggled lightly. It didn't take Stiles long to realize that 'Afa' in two year old - maybe three year old -speak meant Alpha. Stiles licked his dry lips, then swallowed hard and looked back to the very obviously married couple, if the ring on Allison's finger was any indicator, in front of him.

"Why are you here? I thought that by now you would have realized that-"

Scott let out a low growl. "That you don't want anything to do with us? Yeah, we got the message. _I_ got the message when I called you to wish you happy birthday _every_ year and you didn't pick up. I called to tell you I was going to propose to Allison, when she said yes, when we got married, when we found out she was pregnant, when she went into labor, to get you to come see Gen on her first _and_ second birthdays, but _you didn't answer!_ " Scott was yelling now, something he almost never did unless things were completely serious. He had begun to take angry steps towards Stiles, but the amber-eyed young man just stared back with his shoulders back and his chin held high.

"I get that you didn't want anything to do with us, Stiles! _Trust me,_ we got it! But you are _pack_. You are D-"

Stiles' stare instantly turned vicious and he cut Scott off before he could keep going. "No I'm not! Just because he-"

"It doesn't just go-"

"I know that! But he was - _is_ \- wrong! I'm not! I never was and I never will be. I 'm not pack either. I never was pack, and maybe the sooner you realize that the better." Stiles moved to the refrigerator and jerked the door open. He rummaged through it until he found a thing of meat. Taking it in his hands, he turned to face them once again. "Now, if you don't mind. I'd like to cook my father a healthy meal in honor of my brief visit to him. I would prefer it if you left before he got here and asks you all to stay." Hopefully Stiles' eyes made it very clear that he didn't want them there any longer if his little speech didn't.

Scott stared at Stiles for a minute, and the whole house was silent. By the volume that the two men were speaking with each other, Lydia was probably easily able to listen in without werewolf hearing. That meant that Gen could hear what he said perfectly. For some reason that made him feel a bit of remorse, but it didn't show. The only sounds that could be heard was the house creaking and popping like houses do.

"Come on, Gen. We're going to see Alpha." Allison was the one to speak, and she said it so soft that if Stiles didn't have the runes helping his hearing, then it would have been inaudible. That meant they couldn't tell what he was, probably because they had never encountered a Vigilem. He was surprised Scott hadn't asked about all of the tattoos, but when he glanced back at him it was obvious that the werewolf had just been looking at them.

Genim ran into the kitchen, too quick to be a human two year old. Instead of running to Allison or Scott though, she ran to Stiles and stood in front of him. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, but she just smiled wolfishly back at him.

"You smell funny." Stiles blinked, shocked by her statement. Before he could say anything in return to it though, she was speaking rapidly once again. "My birfday is tomorrow! Are yous gonna come, Unca Siles? It would makes Afa happy. I'm turning fwee!" She held up three fingers for emphasis, waving them wildly before continuing. "Will you come? Yous come! Afa would be sooooo happies! Sometimes he looks at pichas of Unca Siles and his eyes sweat." She dragged her fingers down her face, pulling her bottom eyelid down slightly and frowning sadly while doing so. Then her face turned back to normal in half a second. "I's not 'sposed to tells anyone though. Don't tells him I's told yous? Okay? I's sees you tomorrow Unca Siles. My party's at Afa's house! Bye Unca Siles!"

Stiles was in shock as the little girl ran to her mother and began to tug her out of the house, possessing more strength than a normal two, going on three year old. Allison followed her out. Lydia, who had walked in during the middle of Gen's ramblings, was behind her, shooting Stiles a knowing look that seemed to reach his soul. Then it was just him and Scott standing in the kitchen. Scott had gotten tense when Gen asked Stiles to come to her party.

"She'll be upset if you don't come."

Stiles nodded once, then began to pull out other necessary ingredients he needed. "Yeah. Well I like her. She hasn't done anything to make me hate her yet." He gave Scott a withering look, and it looked like the werewolf visibly flinched a bit. Scott nodded once more before turning around and walking out the door.

* * *

 

Back in the shower, Stiles hit his head against the tiled wall in frustration. He knew that if he went to Gen's birthday party, then that would mean having to face the whole pack including Derek. If he didn't go, though, then Genim would be upset. He didn't want that because the little girl reminded him so much of himself. He knew that born werewolves couldn't get any attention deficits, but she probably would have had it if she was human.

He was snapped from his thoughts when a scraping sound came from his room. It sounded a lot like his window opening, and he made a mental not to lock it after he dealt with whatever werewolf was sneaking through it. Stiles had a suspicion of who it was, so he turned the now ice cold water off and stretched his limbs. Sure, all he had done was stand under the water, but he could take a real shower in the morning.

Grabbing the towel hanging up, Stiles dried himself off lightly before knotting it loosely around his waist and making his way across the hall to his bedroom. His dad's door was closed, but light was trickling out from the bottom of it. He hoped that his father wouldn't hear any of what was probably about to happen.

As soon as he stepped clear of the door, it closed and he was pushed up against the wall. It wasn't in an angry manner but more of a desperate one. Stiles felt a face pressed into the side of his neck, smelling the expanse of the skin there. Calloused hands had a grip on his wrists, and he could feel the slight prick of claws pinching his skin. The large body pressed against his, radiating heat and making very quiet whimpering noises in the back of its throat. The feeling of wet heat slowly made a trail on his neck, and Stiles assumed that he was being licked.

"So I see you're going to confront me as soon as I get out of the shower so I don't have any weapons on me. Careful, though. Maybe I use wolfsbane infused body wash." Stiles smirked when he felt Derek tense, freezing in his actions like he realized what he was doing. "But then again I'm just a puny human and could never think of something so smart. So please, continue with your useless scenting."

He felt Derek pull back, loosening the grip he had on Stiles' wrists, enough for him to jerk them away from the werewolf is he wanted to. He didn't though, having something more fun in mind. Just when he was about to speak, Derek let go. Stiles' smirk grew, but it was quickly wiped off when Derek's hand wrapped around his throat instead. His amber eyes widened and choking noises began to come from his lips.

Derek's eyes were red, and he was growling slightly. Stiles flailed slightly, trying to do something to get him away, but the Alpha had him pinned in a way that didn't allow him to move at all. "You sure do smell a lot like m-" His words froze, then the wolf picked back up what he was saying. "Like Stiles underneath all of the fire and smoke and brimstone and sulfur, but you aren't him. Not even close." The grip on Stiles' throat was gone just as the edge of his vision had started to turn black. He gasped for air, but the pain was gone quickly as the runes worked their magic. It just left him feeling more exhausted though since they had been draining energry from him for the past hour as he stood under the scalding water.

As he blinked to refocus his eyes, he realized that Derek was suddenly a lot closer. Stiles thought at first that Derek was going to kiss him, but when he saw the scowl that was on the Alpha's face, accompanied by a low growl and glowing red eyes, he knew that it was supposed to be intimidating. It wasn't, and Stiles decided that he was going to have fun with the situation.

His hands, now free from any grip they were in, reached up and trailed themselves along Derek's chest. The smirk Stiles had grew when the wolf tensed under his touch but didn't pull away. "God, you've gotten hotter over the past five years." He dragged his nails lightly back down the muscle of Derek's chest, making sure to brush over his nipples through the thin shirt. They kept going until Stiles got a grip on Derek's belt and had pulled their hips together forcefully. Blue-green eyes slowly trailed from amber to pink lips to tanned throat to muscled shoulders and chest and stomach to where their hips where pressed against each others.

"The Stiles that I- The old Stiles-"

"Grew up. He grew up, Derek. Now he isn't some weak little human who could be ripped open by some goddamned Alpha because he was trying to rescue people who never gave a fuck about him." Stiles had leaned forward and was spitting out the words like they were venomous, his grip growing tighter still on Derek's belt. "He learned how to fight for himself and lost someone who cared about him to some fucking supernatural creatures. But you know what he did?" He pressed his lips to the shell of Derek's ear, letting his lips brush it lightly before speaking hard. "He. Fought. Back."

Before Derek could respond, Stiles shoved him away and walked over to his suitcase. He didn't think twice about allowing his towel to drop as he grabbed a pair of black boxer briefs and slid them on. If he had the ability to smell emotions like weres could, then he was sure that the room would reek of the wolf's lust and arousal. He smirked to himself before turning to face Derek, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You can leave now."

"No."

Stiles' eyes narrowed, and he took a deep breath. Shrugging, he walked over to his wooden chest and opened it. His eyes scanned for a certain bottle, and he made an 'ah-ha' noise when he found it. Bottle in hand, Stiles turned to face Derek again, not trusting to leave his back to any supernatural for too long. He held the tiny bottle up so Derek could clearly see the dark blue powder in it.

"Either you take your little wolf ass and climb out my window, or I can test this species of wolfsbane that's effect has yet been discovered." Stiles shook the bottle for emphasis, and Derek tensed. "You can obviously hear my heart beat and know that I'm not lying. So run along because if I don't get my beauty sleep then I tend to get grumpy."

He waited for him to move or say something, but Derek didn't. He just stared back at him with red, glowing eyes. They stood like that for a minute before Stiles shrugged again and began to unscrew the top, but stopped when the sound of the floorboards creaking were heard. His eyes flickered up, and Derek was gone, leaving the window open and the curtains blowing in the breeze.

Stiles let out a soft sigh of what might have been relief as he looked at the window, then tightened the lid once more. He placed it back in its slot in the chest and walked towards his old bed. It wouldn't be anything compared to the king sized bed he slept on in Tristan's home, but it would be a hell of a lot better than the dorm mattresses he had to sleep on for the beginning of his college career before he met Ariel. His heart squeezed as he thought of her, but he managed to push it aside as he climbed under the covers after shutting and locking the window.

As his eyes slipped shut from exhaustion, Stiles realized that tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another chapter! I bet you guys thought I abandoned this story! But I didn't. ;) I've just been crazy busy and I had to rewrite the kitchen scene a bajillion times until this one came out! <3 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think. Reviews are always welcome, and you can also follow my tumblr for little snippets of what I'm writing or ask questions about the story! When I finish the artwork of Stiles' tattoos, that is where they will be posted! thatnerdybrunette.tumblr.com
> 
> I also forget to give you guys the translation for the last chapter title, but "Pulvis Vitae" means Dust of Life. "Qui Crevit Sursum. Ipse Pugnavit Retro." means He Grew Up. He Fought Back. Once again, I hoped you guys enjoyed and thank you for reading my story!
> 
> Also: help! I'm new to AO3, and for some reason it keeps posting the note from my first chapter at the end as well! Can anyone tell me how to get rid of it? Please and thank you!


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